


Present Past Imperfect: Epilogue v1

by tersa (alix)



Series: Dragon Age:Present Imperfect [2]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Awakening, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied Past Relationships, Past Relationship(s), Rare Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:16:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alix/pseuds/tersa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after Anders destroyed the Kirkwall Chantry and Marian Hawke killed her lover, a stranger with a child walks into Amaranthine asking for Nathaniel Howe.</p><p>The original 'ending' to "Past Present Imperfect", although it has since been superceded by another version of this ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Present Past Imperfect: Epilogue v1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LiveJournal in May 2011

**Post Game**

A woman trudged wearily through the gates of Vigil Keep, attracting stares from Wardens and servants alike. On her back was strapped a two-handed sword. In her arms, a small boy slept.

Marian was used to the looks and ignored them. Attention was something she’d gotten used to years ago, but it was now a means of deflection. No one expected the former Champion of Kirkwall to show up in their small town, without pageantry or companions, with a child in tow. With her hair bleached an unsightly motley of brown, red, and blonde, she was just another sellsword in a time of upheaval with a misbegotten brat.

If only they knew.

She was stopped at the doors of the Keep proper by a guard. “Halt. What’s your business with the Wardens?”

It wasn’t hard to affect road weariness. “None. I have business with Nathaniel Howe, if he’s still here.”

The speaker looked to his fellow and jerked his chin. While his partner went out to the fields, he sized up Marian and the boy. “That’s a rather large sword for you to be toting around. Are you looking for trouble?”

A faint smile cracked her face. “No, but it has an odd habit of finding me.”

Footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned reflexively, taking a step away to protect her back. Nathaniel accompanied the other guard, a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder and a bow in his hand. A few gray hairs frosted his temple, a few more lines creased the corner of his eyes, but he hadn’t changed much in the intervening three years. He studied her curiously, asking, “May I help you?”

“Hello, Nathaniel,” she said, the smile turning up a fraction from relief…and pleasure to see him, she’d admit to herself. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

At the sound of her voice, his eyes went wide with shock, but wisely, he bit back whatever words his throat was moving to make. Then he did a doubletake on the boy in her arms, and he shivered once. “Yes,” he said, his voice even more hoarse than usual. “Come with me.” He led them into the keep, passing more curious people, some of whom greeted Nathaniel others who nodded respectfully but said nothing, to a room that looked like an office, austere as its user. A ginger cat stood up on the sill of a window and arched its back in a stretch, turned around once, then curled up to fall back to sleep. Nathaniel closed the door behind them with a solid thunk, then paused. “Marian?”

“Yes, it’s me,” she replied, then grimaced. “Can I put him down somewhere?”

Nathaniel started. “Yes, yes. Use this chair,” he said, walking over to a stuffed chair under the windows. She lay the child down in it, tucking her cloak around him, and turned back to find Nathaniel had put his bow and quiver aside and was looking at both of them. “What are you _doing_ here?”

She lifted her chin, the pride of her stance at odds with her words. “I need help.”

Wariness crept into his surprise. “What kind of help?”

She bit her lip and closed her eyes, willing the gathering tears away. She would not cry, she told herself, but it was so _hard_ , now that the time was here. Emotion roughened her voice. “I need to find someone to take care of my son.”

Again, the look over to the sleeping child, then back with unspoken question writ in his expression. She knew what he saw: her natural black hair, but a face that was pure Anders, including hazel eyes hidden by his closed eyelids. She smiled crookedly. “Yes. His.”

“Wardens don’t have children,” he said with sorrow and wonder.

She laughed, bitterness turning it a touch wild. “Well, as he liked to say, he was a mage first, last, and always.”

Nathaniel jerked, his arms coming up to cup elbows in either hand, then settled into a leaning seat against the edge of the desk. He asked softly, “What happened in Kirkwall? We heard the stories, of someone blowing the Chantry up and how everyone—templars and Circle alike—went mad and began slaughtering one another. And that you and your companions were in the thick of things but escaped.”

“All true,” Marian said, exhaustion beginning to bear down on her once more, and she more fell than took a seat next to him. It was close enough to feel the warmth of his body, and she longed to lean into it, but she held herself upright. She hadn’t the right. “Save one.” Nearly inaudibly, she said, “Anders didn’t make it.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nathaniel drop his head, hand coming up to cover his eyes. Voice gravelly, he asked, “How?”

“He blew up the Chantry.”

His head snapped up and turned towards her. “Maker’s Breath. _Anders_?” he asked incredulously.

Her mouth twisted in a pained smile. “He blew up the Chantry,” she repeated. “Right there, in front of the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter. And then he threw himself on my judgment and I executed him.”

“ _What_?”

Three years, and the breath still crushed out of her lungs and her pulse pounded remembering that moment, her knife going into his chest, the tears on his face as he mouthed, ‘Thank you’ and slipped from her arms. Her throat hurt. “He hid it from you that night.” She swallowed hard, past the lump. “He said you knew Justice.”

“Aye, I did. What—“ he cut himself off, and waited.

“Anders allowed him to possess him, years ago.” Nathaniel made a strangled noise of protest, but she went on. “I knew that when I fell in love with him.” Tears prickled her eyes again, and she pinched the bridge of her nose to clear them. “I thought it was different, Justice wasn’t a demon, at least from what he said, he said it was him, his anger, that made it so bad. He fought it for years, and then…he just gave up. Gave in.” Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with an angry swipe of her hand. “He called him Vengeance, and it drove him to do it. Afterwards…he wanted to die. He knew what he’d done was terrible, and he was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of fighting _it_. I killed him,” she said flatly, turning to level a challenging look at Nathaniel, “because I couldn’t watch him suffer anymore, and couldn’t risk that Vengeance would someday do worse.”

Nathaniel’s bark of laughter was brittle. “Worse than blowing up an entire Chantry?”

“Yes. What if it had been the whole Maker bedamned city?”

He sobered and began lifting a hand towards her face, but then let it drop, turning away from her hard gaze to look at the sleeping boy. “What about him?”

“His name is Anda,” she said, and saw Nathaniel flinch. “He came later.”

He looked back, and pity softened his tone. “You said you needed to find someone to take care of him. Why did you come here?”

She wiped her eyes and nose dry with a sleeve, and let her hands fall across her thighs, palms up. “My family is dead. If Anders knew of any, he never told me. My friends…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “They’re too linked to the stories. The templars would probably do anything to get their hands on me, and my friends would probably be the next people they’ll look for.” She stopped, hoping that would be enough, but he waited, forcing her to continue. “Anders loved you once. I…” She cut herself off at the curious glance he gave her. “You’re a Grey Warden. Your order is separate from the Chantry and has no champion in this fight.” She blushed. “And you may have been there, that night he was conceived. I feel like I can trust you.”

“What about Bethany?”

She shook her head. “I thought of her, but—” She broke off, and sighed. “She’s the first person I’d go to to look for me.”

He sat in silence for sometime, a silence broken when he snorted in amusement and looked over to the window. “He’s always leaving things behind for me to take care of,” he said quietly. At Marian’s look of confusion, he pointed at the sleeping furball with his hand. “Ser Pounce-A-Lot. His cat. He loved that damn cat, and he left him behind for me to take care of. Even after I found out where he went, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of him.” He sighed and stood up. “Come, I know someone we can ask. But if she says no, I won’t be able to help you.”

“Thank you,” Marian said, gratitude easing the constriction in her chest, then watched as Nathaniel scooped Anda up. Anda stirred a little but then settled again with his head against Nathaniel’s shoulder.

He had a quiet word with the guard to let them know where he was going then led her to the town, through streets she got lost in after only a short while, to a small but neat house in a residential section. Children played in the cobblestone streets, three of them detaching themselves from the others to shriek, “Uncle Nathaniel!” and throw themselves at his legs. Anda woke at the noise and panicked, Marian taking him from Nathaniel so he could deal with his nephews and niece. “I need to talk to your mother, but I promise I’ll come by for dinner tomorrow.”

“Promise?” the oldest boy said, and Marian recognized the light of hero worship in his eyes.

“Promise.”

The children ran off to rejoin their friends, and Nathaniel led her up to the door and knocked. Marian recognized the dark-haired woman who answered the door for more than just family resemblance. Delilah stepped up to hug her brother. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“I wasn’t either. Can we come in?”

She threw Marian a curious look at the plural of the request, but nodded. “Please, excuse the mess.”

Once the door was closed, Nathaniel said, “Del, I have a favor to ask of you. A big one. And you can say no.”

Delilah lifted an eyebrow. “What kind of favor?”

He looked to Marian, who stepped forward with Anda in her arms. He had his face buried in her neck shyly. “We met twice, back in Kirkwall. You asked me to find Nathaniel when he went missing in the Deep Roads.”

For the second time today, someone’s eyes went wide with shock in recognition. “Champion?”

Marian winced. “Please, don’t. That’s a dangerous title in these times. Please call me Marian.”

“Marian,” Delilah repeated in a daze.

She jiggled Anda, then whispered to him, “Come on, love, say hello.” Anda looked at Nathaniel and Delilah, then hid his face again. Marian sighed. “I need to find someone to take care of him for me. Nathaniel brought me here.”

With a shrewd look between her brother and Marian, she put her hands on her hips. “Why?”

“I needed someone I trusted,” Nathaniel said.

Delilah shook her head. “No. I mean, why do you need to find someone to take care of him?”

Nathaniel startled, and Marian looked away, unable to meet Delilah’s gaze. She was a mother, she understood the ramifications of the necessity when Nathaniel had missed it. “There’s something I have to do. Something I _have_ to do. And I need to know he’s somewhere safe before I can do it.” She shook her head and clenched her jaw. She would not cry again today. She wouldn’t. “You know who I am. I can’t give him the kind of life he deserves. I want to find someone—a mother, a family—who will love and protect him.”

“Please,” Nathaniel begged, voice soft.

The addition brought Delilah’s focus back on him. “Why is this so important to _you_?” she asked, brow furrowed with puzzlement.

“She saved my life,” he replied, and at Delilah’s dubious look, added, “I knew his father.”

She nodded once, and Marian recognized the thoughtful expression of an intelligent woman who saw more than was said. Back to her, Delilah asked, “The father. Will he be showing up on my doorstep one day?”

‘Will’ not ‘would’. Marian let go a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “No. He’s gone. I’ve all he has left. I should warn you,” she went on, holding a hand up to forestall an interruption. “There may be a better than normal chance he will be a mage. Magic runs strongly in my family…and his father’s.” It earned her a sharp look from Nathaniel, which she returned with a lifted eyebrow faintly daring him to challenge the assertion. His mouth twisted, and he looked away, ceding the point.

Anda fussed, and Delilah went and found him a piece of fruit. Marian put him down and he toddled over to her, looking up at his mother before taking it with a ‘Thank you’ and beginning to eat on the stool Delilah found for him. While he ate, Delilah asked in undertone. “What do you want me to tell him, one day?”

Marian blinked, unprepared for the question. She bit her lip as she watched him eat. “Tell him the truth, if you will. Tell him…” She paused, searching for words. “Tell him is father died fighting for what he believed in, and that his mother loved him very much, but did her duty. And that I left him here because I knew he’d be loved and cared for better than I could do.” She felt Nathaniel’s hand touch her back and she looked over at him with surprise, followed by a small, grateful smile, before looking back to Delilah. “It’s safer for you if you don’t know anymore than that. Nathaniel knows the rest, I’ll trust him to tell Anda when he’s old enough.”

Delilah’s dark eyes watched her seriously, then looked over to Anda, and sighed. “Albert’s going to take some convincing.”

A corner of Nathaniel’s mouth twitched upwards. “I’ll talk to him, if need be. And I’ll send some money along to help out.”

“You already do that, Nate,” she said, shaking her head. “You must have really loved him, to take care of another man’s son.”

It was Nathaniel’s turn to look away, and Marian’s to smile a lopsided grin at his discomfit. She saved him from answering, though, stepping forward and taking up both of Delilah’s hands in her sword-callused ones. “Thank you. I can’t ever repay you, but thank you.”

Delilah scoffed gruffly. “Nonsense. Nathaniel is right: I came to you a desperate sister, a complete stranger, and yet you braved the Deep Roads and brought him back out again. A debt like that can never be repaid, either. You should say good-bye, if you’re going to. He’s going to be…unhappy, for a while, and it’s best for him if it’s gotten over quickly. And try not to cry, if you can help it. Your distress will make his worse.”

Marian gulped. “Sure, make it harder for me,” she muttered, but then dropped to a crouch. “Anda, can Mama have a hug?” The little boy ran into her open arms and threw chubby arms around her neck, giving her a sloppy, fruit-stained kiss on her cheek. She held him tightly for a few seconds, then forced her arms to loosen and put him at arms length. “Anda-love, this is my friend. Mama has to go somewhere, and she’s going to take care of you.”

“Mama no go!” Anda wailed, throwing his arms around her neck once more and clinging.

It took all her will to peel his arms off and step back, only to have him wrap himself around her leg. “Anda-love, Mama has to go. But I promise, you’ll be okay.”

“Anda,” Delilah stepped in, reaching a hand out towards him, and he looked over to her. “Would you like to play? We have some _wonderful_ toys here.”

Anda looked at Delilah suspiciously, then up at his mother with a tear-streaked face that shattered her broken heart even further. But she pasted on a false smile and said in a strained, high-pitch voice, “Playing is fun! Why don’t you go with her to see the toys?”

Reluctantly, Anda took Delilah’s outstretched finger and walked after her, gasping with delight when she handed him a small, stuffed doll and cuddling it to his chest possessively. He looked back once to where Marian and Nathaniel stood watching him, but then turned to explore the small chest Delilah was emptying, one piece at a time, as a distraction. She looked to Marian only once, leveling it at her, and Marian took the hint, turning to go. Anda heard the door opening and shrieked, but Nathaniel shut it behind her. The thin walls did little to mute Anda’s wails as she walked away quickly.

Nathaniel shadowed her, his presence oddly comforting in her grief, until she stopped at a crossroads and looked around. Abruptly, she turned to him, the tears falling once more, announcing, “I need a drink.”

#####

It was late when Nathaniel helped her up to the room she’d rented before diving headfirst into a cask of ale. She was ragingly drunk, knew she’d probably regret it in the morning, and couldn’t care.

She flopped back onto the bed, legs dangling over the edge, arms over her head and sighed. Without being asked, Nathaniel knelt on the floor and began tugging off her boots, laying them aside, then poured a glass of water from the ewer on the room’s only table. He sat beside her and wedged a hand under her shoulders, levering her back up to a seated position so he could hand her the mug. “Here. Drink this.”

She drank it all as asked and belched when she was done. He wrinkled his nose, then refilled it, handing it back to her. She drank that as well, then wiped her mouth off with the back of her forearm. “’Nuff. I’m going to float away.”

He put the mug aside and put a hand on her back to steady her. “Are you going to be okay?”

“No,” she answered bluntly. She was tired of tears, but they came regardless. She scrubbed at them with exasperation. “I’ve lost everything: my family, my friends, my home, my love, and now my son. All I have left is what I have to do.”

“You have me,” he said gently.

She slewed her gaze around to look at him, his hand warm through the material of her shirt. She patted his thigh. “That’s true. Thank you,” she said with great care towards her enunciation. “Thank you for helping me. Thank you for tonight. Thank you for taking me to bed.”

His mouth twisted in amusement, and she realized her hand still rested on his thigh, her body pressed against his side from hip to shoulder. His eyes drifted down from meeting her gaze to her mouth, then back up again, and his lips parted. A dull part of her brain caught up with what she’d said and she flushed even more than caused by the drink, her breathing picking up. She remembered that night, three years ago, the feel of his mouth as she kissed him, and wondered if he tasted the same. It had been a long time since she’d been with anyone, not since long before Anders had died, and she suddenly craved it, wanting to fill the empty hole inside. With a lurch towards him, she made to kiss him…instead smashing her nose into his. He yelped and pulled back, a hand clapping over it to rub, and she did the same while muttering, “Sorry.”

He reached up and drew her hand away, cradling it in his palm and studying it before looking at her sidelong with his face ducked down. “Are you sure this wouldn’t be a mistake?” he rasped.

“My life is full of mistakes, what’s one more?” she replied flippantly, regretting it when she saw his face close down and he started to pull his hand away. “No, wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” She grabbed his hand before he could withdraw it completely, crushing it in her grasp. “Then again, maybe I do.” She lunged in and managed to find his mouth successfully the second time around, felt him shudder as he inhaled sharply then dove in again to kiss her back.

It wasn’t the same. Although it felt good to have in her arms, touching her, stroking her, memories kept crowding in her head, memories she tried to squash but failed to. After a time, Nathaniel sighed and rolled over onto his back, breathing hard. “I’m sorry. I…can’t.”

She propped herself up on an elbow, carefully, because her head swam at the movement. “Can’t?” she echoed stupidly.

He touched her face, thumb tracing the cheekbone through her skin, then let it fall away. “The last time…Anders was here. He’s still here, and I can’t do it with him between us.”

“I…yes,” she said with relief, and he saw that she understood. She tilted her head. “Will you stay, though? I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Aye,” he said, reaching for her as she fell against him to pillow her head on the hollow of his shoulder. “I can do that much for the both of you.”

#####

The next morning, she shivered on the docks in the early morning fog although not from chill. Her head felt like it was full of an entire family of dwarven smiths and her mouth all the beaches of the Wounded Coast. And Nathaniel _chuckled_ at her distress. She shot him a sour look, then sighed.

He took her hands in his and brought them to his mouth to kiss the knuckles, peering at her over them. “Where will you go?” he asked in a hushed voice, against the bustle of sailors loading up the ship at the end of the pier they stood on.

She squeezed his hands and released them. “It’s best if you didn’t know. But if I can, I’ll send word that I’m safe.”

He nodded, then seemed to think of something and said, “Thank you, Marian.”

She looked at him quizzically. “For what?”

“For everything. For giving me closure. For trusting me with Anda. I’ll treat him like the son I’ll never have.”

She smiled, and impulsively stepped forward to kiss his cheek. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I don’t think this will be one of them. Farewell, Nathaniel Howe.”

His arms wrapped around her and he hugged her tightly, pulling away to kiss her on the forehead. “Farewell, Marian Hawke.”

She left him standing there, squaring her shoulders as she boarded the ship that would carry her. To her duty.


End file.
